The Stanley Bloom

[Verse 1]
The Stanley toolbox has a rust-bloom on the latch,
Same shade as the brick on their bungalow patch.
He walks from the kitchen to the dent in the hall,
Thinks he hears a loose floorboard start to call.
Smells like motor oil and the cedar he shaved thin,
And the quiet where the work should begin.

[Chorus]
(Lead) And his hands, they remember the heft and the grain,
(Harmony) *Building a new life out of the rain.*
(Lead) But the house is all settled, there's nothing to mend,
(Harmony) *Just the love you can't say at the very end.*

[Verse 2]
His wife pours the coffee, thick in the dzezva's throat,
Watches the circle he's wearing in his old coat.
First Tuesday of a July heatwave, the air sticks to the pane,
He picks up the hammer and puts it down again.
She says, "'You'll wear a hole right through the floorboards, Lev.'"
Then turns to the sink, like it's all she has left.

[Chorus]
(Lead) And his hands, they remember the heft and the grain,
(Harmony) *Building a new life out of the rain.*
(Lead) But the house is all settled, there's nothing to mend,
(Harmony) *Just the love you can't say at the very end.*

[Bridge]
The foundations are steady, the wiring is sound,
No draft from the window, no give in the ground.
It’s the quiet that’s broken.
The quiet is too loud.

[Outro]
The Stanley toolbox has a rust-bloom on the latch.
He just needed something his own two hands could catch.